


Lost

by Smoltinypumpkinchild



Series: Well *I* heard you're writing fluffy oneshots on the side, Burr... [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluffy, Help, It's 1AM, M/M, Oh My God someone stop me, haha never, kill me, this ship will end me, when will i stop likening John's freckles to stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smoltinypumpkinchild/pseuds/Smoltinypumpkinchild
Summary: I couldn't sleep so I made trash





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for shitty characterization and pacing and overuse of adverbs and holy shit this is cheesy and bad I'm so sorry except I'm not because this ship needs more fluff ok

Aaron was freezing. He was pretty sure that he was actually freezing. His limbs were seizing up, his jaw locking, and he seemed to have lost his feet somewhere along the path that they’d been treading for the past two hours. Walking hunched over on himself in a vain defense against the biting wind, he could feel the icy rain seeping slowly through the back of his coat and running across his skin, and the dead, paper-thin leaves that stuck to his shoes like plasters made squelching noises with every step.

Wasn’t Autumn supposed to be pretty? Weren’t the trees supposed to glow like fire above their heads and rustle in a soft breeze? Wasn’t the moon supposed to turn golden, too, wasn’t frost supposed to lace the branches with glittering swirls, weren’t there supposed to be campfires, and laughter, and toffee apples and chestnuts, weren’t they supposed to welcome their dragons’ breath and tell ghost stories in the dark?

But no.

Here they were, at _god_ knows what hour of the night, decidedly lost in the middle of a dark, damp forest with a storm picking up and no working torch, no idea where the rest of their party was, no map, no signal, and a rucksack full of wet sandwiches. (Alexander had dropped their bag in a stream five minutes after they lost sight of the road.)

Alexander really wasn’t one for outdoor exploring. He was up for it, certainly, he was _never_ one to back down from a challenge, but he just didn’t seem to get on too well with… nature. His clumsiness, his short stature and his tendency to get distracted and lose sight of where he was stepping had resulted in a sopping, muddy, but defiantly chipper Hamilton barely twenty minutes in. He seemed _determined_ to have fun, even when he was leaving sloppy footprints behind him and wringing out his hat. He was _not_ the person Burr would’ve chosen to get stuck with in a dark wood with no signposts and far too many loose stones- not that he had much choice in the matter.

Luckily for him, therefore, the man dragging on his sleeve and saying “C’ _mon,_ Aaron- I recognise this bit, I’m _sure_ this time- ” was _not_ Alexander.

If he _could_ have chosen, Burr considered absently, he would definitely have gone with Mulligan. The man was sure, and calm, and infinitely good-natured in a way that was just _comforting_ to anyone around him; you felt sure that he knew what he was doing, and that it was all going to turn out for the better, in the end. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Hercules was already waiting by the car with hot coffee for all of them and an exasperated smile- having worked out the fasted route home, avoiding traffic, and pointing out a rare species of bat above their heads.

But it wasn’t Mulligan, either.

Lafayette had actually surprised him today- and not in a good sense of the word. Burr had expected the usually sunny, up-beat man to have lead them all forward (if partly due to his long legs) into the trees and started a campfire song thirty seconds in, and to have carried Alexander most of the way. But he’d been complaining almost from the get-go- that it was too cold, too wet, that it wasn’t worth it and they were going to get lost, that he was _sure_ he’d heard a wild animal in the bushes, and yelping and hiding behind Burr- not an easy feat, given the foot he had on him- when an owl swooped over their heads. While Aaron did share most of his sentiments on the matter, he at least had the courtesy to keep quiet about it and let the others have fun. Having Lafayette with him would definitely have made his mood even worse- he didn’t think he’d have managed long under the man’s whining and dragging feet; even Hercules had started to get annoyed with him eventually.

So it was a good thing that it wasn’t Lafayette either.

No, the man tugging at Aaron’s coat and pointing in wonder at the fluttering mushrooms that lined the edges of the path, grinning around his mouthful of damp jelly sandwich and stepping deftly over tree roots, was John Laurens. And Aaron couldn’t decide how he felt about that.

Sure, the man was _irritatingly_ cheerful, chattering on about the different species of fungi that were native to these woods, a spring in his step as he swatted at the leaves in their way with a muddy stick, apparently completely unaffected by the increasingly driving rain. In fact, he kept wanting to stop and listen to it- “It’s like _music_ , Aaron!”; he would stand, head back, eyes closed, letting the freezing drops fall onto his face with a grin splashed across his whole body and _listen,_ listen to the music that only he could hear among the raindrops.

And it should have infuriated him. If it had been anyone else, it would have done. But it was _John_ , John with his wonky grin and his chocolate-drop freckles, and Aaron had accepted long ago that he was absolutely _lost_ where the man was concerned. He’d been lost to him ever since he’d walked into Burr’s bookshop and asked for ‘-something warm. Y’know, something that makes you feel comfy’. He’d smiled that lop-sided, sunlit smile and Aaron had been _lost._

They were lost in a more pressing sense of the word right now, however, and he dragged himself from his thoughts to look around them more closely.

“I _really_ don’t think we’ve been here before, John.” he said, squinting down the path.

“No, we _have,_ see, I remember Lafayette tripped on those tree roots and thought a bear was trying to eat him.” Laurens protested, pointing to the patch of uneven ground just to their right.

“I thought that was on the left side of the path…”

“It _was,_ doofus, we were just going the other way.” John pulled harder on his arm, urging him up the slope, still grinning. Aaron couldn’t help the smile that twitched at his own lips.

“I don’t think I’ve heard anyone use the word ‘doofus’ since ninth grade.” he said, speeding up. At least it might help bring some feeling back into his legs. Laurens shrugged. It was definitely hailing now.

“That’s me, keeping it vintage.”

“Vintage?”

“Yeah, old-timey, y’know, just like mama used to make.”

“Fresh, home-baked organic insults with John Laurens.” Aaron muttered, and John’s laugh was a hearth-side.

_Lost._ Irrevocably _lost._

They were nearing the top of the slope, now, and Aaron was absolutely _sure_ that they hadn’t passed through here. He could see, just around the corner, a ridge of trees bent over into a sort of arch, with a decomposing wooden bench shoved underneath them- he was sure he’d have remembered that. Squinting through the rain, he tried to see if there were any other paths, but road appeared to only go one way. John was still striding on ahead of him, and, at some point, his hand had moved from Burr’s sleeve to his fingers, which were laced tightly with his own. The man’s hands were freezing.

He was about to tell John that they should turn back, when, suddenly, the hail grew three times as heavy. The icy specks bounced off the ground with a great thunderous rattling, and stung Aaron’s face as they hit him, little white pinpricks all over his skin. Shocked by the sudden onslaught, the pair yelled out and rushed to stand under the low-hanging trees in hopes of cover, throwing their spare arms over their heads to protect themselves.

Tripping clumsily and forcing themselves against the trunks, no matter how muddy they were, they managed to get mostly out of the way. The twisted beech was a surprisingly good shelter- if not a very large one. John was pressed almost completely against him, his sopping hair dripping wet down Burr’s collar and one hand resting absently on his chest, both of their backs digging uncomfortably into the tree-branches. Both breathing hard, they stood and stared at the wall of hail just beyond them.

“Damn.” John muttered. “I really thought we were getting somewhere.”

“Hey, come on- it’ll stop soon.” Aaron told him, trying to ignore the rather distracting proximity, how close John’s face was to his own. Laurens frowned.

“No, I meant- I thought I knew where we _were._ ” he toed at the ground gloomily, getting his battered shoe even more caked in mud. “But you were right, we haven’t passed through here before. We’re _totally_ lost.” Burr shrugged.

“Could be worse. At least we know we’re not going in circles.” John looked around at him.

“How are you always so optimistic?” he asked. Aaron almost snorted at the question. _Him? Optimistic?_

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always… you’re just so- so _calm_ about shit like this.” John muttered, gesturing vaguely. “You never get annoyed, or frustrated- you just keep going. How do you do that?” At that, Burr really did laugh aloud. John frowned, visibly affronted, and he struggled to explain.

“It’s- it’s just- me, not get annoyed? You think I’m not- _christ,_ John, literally _everything_ annoys me. I get _so_ frustrated, so _… irritated_ by how cheery you guys always are- I just don’t _show_ it, that’s all. The only reason I wasn’t whining like Lafayette earlier was that I know how to keep my damn mouth shut.”

A few seconds passed as John stared at him, blankly, before he, too, burst into laughter. The movement of his shoulders pressed Aaron’s sopping clothes against his skin and he shivered visibly, making John stop short.

“Sorry- I just… man, you’re weird, Aaron.”

“Is that a good thing?” John smiled, wonky, like it had been slapped on in a hurry.

“The _best._ ”

He was still so _close_. They were almost treading on each other’s feet in the tight space, and, as John moved to try and re-position himself, he slipped on the churned-up ground and grabbed Aaron’s coat for support. Instinctively, Burr gripped his waist, holding him upright, and felt his whole body prickle when Laurens laughed breathlessly against him.

“Th- Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Neither of them let go.

They stood like that, clinging to each other and listening to the hail batter the trees around them, for long enough for Aaron’s legs to go numb again. He could feel John’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his own chest, slow and even, and his warm hands on the lapels of his coat. Laurens was staring vaguely at the tassels on his scarf, twisting them between his fingers absent-mindedly and gradually relaxing against him until his warm weight ran flush against his chest, his chin on Burr’s shoulder. Aaron lost himself in the feeling, letting their breathing fall in time as they stood and listened. An owl called from the tree-tops, and they heard an answer, far off in the distance.

“Y’know, owls don’t actually say _‘twit-twoo’._ ” John said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah- it’s Tawny owls people hear, but the female says ‘ _ke-wick’_ , sort of, and then the male answers _‘hoo-hoo’,_ and people just assumed it was the same owl.”

“Didn’t know that.”

“What can I say, I’m a regular fount of knowledge.” Aaron’s chuckle sent vibrations through them both.

It was some time before he realised that the rain was letting up. The rattling sounds had ceased, and the downpour slowed to a drizzle. But they were still standing there. John had his head on his shoulder, his eyes closed- almost as if he was asleep, and Burr reluctantly nudged him back into consciousness. If they didn’t keep going, they’d be wandering through these woods till dawn.

“I… I think it’s stopping.” he murmured. Laurens blinked and flushed slightly, looking up at him, but didn’t move away.

“Oh. Right.” A few more seconds passed, before John let go of his coat and took a step back. The loss of contact let a cold shiver run through him, and he had to fight the urge to put his arms around his shoulders and pull them close again. Running a hand through his still-dripping hair, John was glancing around the space, up the trees- and then he stopped, staring upwards.

“Aaron, _look._ ” he breathed. He pulled slowly away from him, taking a few slow steps into the clearing on the other side of the bench, dragging his feet in the mud, before stopping, swaying, almost in the exact centre. His head tipped back, his eyes wide, he _stared._ Burr followed him, curious.

“What are you…?”

“Aaron, look at the _stars._ ”

Aaron looked.

Between the leafy silhouettes, marred only by a couple of lingering jet-streams, the bright, swirling lights filled the whole of his vision in an otherworldly glow. They were blinding, dizzying, spiraling outwards and seeming to shift and spin as his eyes struggled to focus- spilled like glittering paint drops across the hollow black canvas of the sky. Everything… dwindled. He felt _outside_ himself somehow, sucked in and blown back simultaneously by the sheer _magnitude_ of the sky, of the constellations and galaxies spread before him- and at the same time, it felt entirely distant. It was like a painting. A beautiful picture laid out before them and framed in spidery beech leaves, like an imagined burst of pixie dust scattered across the heavens.

For some time, he simply stared. He let himself get _lost_ in it- in the endless expanse of light and darkness, his searching eyes carving shapes and pictures into it, and listened to the quiet rustlings of the leaves. Then, a half-sigh next to him brought him back down to earth, and he blinked and turned his head- only to have the breath stolen from his lungs again instantly.

John was gazing up at the stars in something he could only describe as _wonder,_ his arms hanging loosely by his sides and his mouth slightly open, and the whole of the sky was reflected in his eyes. The cool starlight made a sort of halo through the baby hairs around his face, illuminating his awe-struck features softly and making him appear almost _ethereal_ against the backdrop of inky branches. The freckles spattered over his face mirrored the dazzling constellations almost perfectly, little flecks of starlight dripped over his skin and _oh god_ how could he be so _beautiful?_

“What?”

John had turned to stare at him, blinking starlight from his eyes.

_Oh, god. He’d said that out loud, hadn’t he?_

“What did you say?”

“I- I…” Burr stuttered. _What could he say?_ Before he could come up with an excuse, he was blurting out the truth. “Beautiful.” he said, simply. “You’re beautiful.” Evidently, this was not the answer that John was expecting, because his eyes turned saucer-round and his mouth dropped open- and Aaron _cursed_ himself and his stupid mouth and…

And then, before he knew he was going to do it, before he had even _considered_ doing it, he had leaned over to John and kissed him. It wasn’t long, or deep, and there were no fireworks- no sparks of electricity between their lips like people talked about- no, but it was... warm. Soft, and safe, and warm, and he pulled back after a moment, searching John’s eyes for his reaction.

Pure shock was all he could see there for a moment. Then, slowly, like spreading honey, a smile formed at the corners of his mouth, growing to light up the whole of his face- and his eyes were full of starlight again, and then he had gripped the front of his coat and pressed their lips together- warm and slow and it felt like coming home. Before he could mentally kick himself for that cheesy thought, John was pulling back, grinning and shaking his head, cheeks flushed gold with his blush.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” he murmured. Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting his hands rest on John’s hips and their chests brush lightly.

“Would _‘since the day we met’_ compete?” he asked. John laughed again and kissed him, smiling and smiling so much that the kissing part was getting difficult, but he couldn’t exactly complain when a giggling, starlit John Laurens was wrapping his arms around his waist and peppering his lips with soft, sweet kisses, rising up on his tiptoes to kiss his nose, too- and he laughed himself, deep and warm in his chest, and felt the smile against his lips broaden still further.

Somehow, he didn’t feel so cold any more.

**Author's Note:**

> *screams* I'M TRAAAAAAASH
> 
> come shame me on tumblr @smoltinypumpkinchild


End file.
